Kind

God is kind. This is such a profound truth. I've spent most of my life thinking that God was angry with me...or that His will for me was laid upon a tight rope that I was trying my best not to fall off of. If I did fall, my thoughts included a ton of guilt and brow beating. I'd punish myself until I felt I deserved to be in His good graces once again.

I've been listening to a song lately that's been rocking my world. It's by Amanda Cook and is called "kind." 

Here is the link: https://youtu.be/e9dP8IvGUEo

So much healing can be found in the lyrics:

You are not a tyrant king.

You do not delight in suffering.

Your power doesn’t compensate for insecurity, ‘Cause You are not a tyrant King.

You are not an angry man. You do not treat us with contempt.

Your voice is sure, Your eyes are soft, Your smile, confident. ‘Cause You are not an angry man.

You are kind

You are kind

You are kind

You are kind

Your love is a fury all its own.

Sweeping the dust and turning feet towards home.

Carrying the orphans and resetting broken bones.  Your love is a fury all its own.

And love is powerful enough,

Without the fear of punishment.

.......

That is the true character of God. He is loving. He is kind. He's not a punisher or wrongs.

If you've ever believed lies about who God really is like I have, I encourage you to seek out new truth about who He really is. His character is pure. His love for you is boundless. His thoughts toward you are good and He indeed is Kind.

Love,

-Mel

Can I breathe?

Where have I been? Who am I now? These are questions that I seem to ask myself a lot lately. Looking back, I can't go back to where to was... to being who I was.  I'm altogether different.

I find myself vacillating lately. I'm fighting the thoughts in my head- feeling like I should be in a different place than being tempted to stay in a position of mourning my losses.

I feel the pain of catastrophe's wake. I feel the need to rebuild. Wanting to grieve over what was stolen from me, yet fully aware of the blessing of new life and a second chance that I've been given. It's like my feet are firmly planted where they should be- in victory, but I haven't really gotten my butt up off of the ground yet.

You see, I'm pretty good at physically moving forward. It's my mind that needs a little more time. It needs a little more help. I have a lot of renewing to do.

Through it all I know that God is faithful. Through it all I know that things always get better. I know I am stronger, braver, wiser and more determined than before. Yet, I pray for strength in my dealings.

I have this intrinsic need to feel more victorious. Like being able to walk isn't victory enough. I want to reclaim everything that was lost...with violence.

As you can tell, there is a torrent of thoughts swirling in my head. Thoughts I've only now finally decided to pen. I've tried to write the story at least five times before since May. Today, I decided to finally settle upon how I feel today... and what a place this is. :-)

There will be highs and lows to my journey, but no matter what, I am determined to move forward everyday. That's what counts. That is what will change everything.

Now,  if I can just remember to breathe... :-)

Love,


-Mel

The Necessity of Dignity

If there was one thing that I am taking from this experience, it is the beauty and necessity of dignity. When I first arrived at the hospital, I was completely helpless. I could not lift my hand to drink water. I could not dress or bathe myself. I could not cover myself with a blanket if I was cold. I was entirely at the whim of my caregivers...and I was fine with it. My body was so badly broken that I found comfort in being cared for. I felt valued. I began to bask in the needed attention that I was being given- until I grew stronger.

As soon as I happened upon the Rehab Ward, I realized that I had been given the green light to try. As I wheeled through the halls and glanced at the state of my neighbors, I soon realized that I was the youngest patient here. I saw the feeble wrinkled bodies of my peers. I saw where the atrophies of life had taken their toll. I realized that I was far from where I believed many of these individuals were- at a place of giving up...maybe even at a place of being ready and willing to die.

If I was to survive at all in an environment like this, I knew I had to set my heart and mind like flint in the direction of health and healing. I intrinsically vowed that everyday that I found myself to be here, I would give 100% until I was ready to go home.

As the days went by, I watched as the tasks that I had to complete went from the status’ of needing assistance, to me being able to complete the tasks with full independence. I passed challenges of eating, grooming, toileting, getting dressed and bathing. I overcame my fear of scalpels and going to the bathroom alone.

As these milestones occurred, I also noticed that I began to be treated differently. I became less of a patient, and more of a counterpart to the staff on the floor. They began to open up to me- sharing stories of their personal lives and hobbies. They shares stories of their dreams and ambitions, families and deepest sorrows. I was entrusted with hearts and was able to take a glimpse into the souls of these caregivers beyond their badges and titles. I felt human again. I felt like a traveller amongst friends.

I recall a time in this very same hospital, many years ago, when these pleasantries would have never been afforded to me. I had MRSA in my blood and found myself to be ostracized in a small wing of the hospital where patients recovered from hysterectomies.

I had recently given birth to my oldest son at 24 weeks gestation, and he was fighting for his life in the NICU. Little did he know that I too was fighting for mine. The strongest medicines the hospital were not working for me. I broke out in a painful rash on my body. I had many fevers, sometimes to 104 degrees and my husband was constantly fighting to advocate for my care.

There was even a time where I would call the nurses for help, and although a cheery voice came on the line, promising assistance, or a meal, no one would ever come. I was in that place for a month. I felt like a prisoner in this very hospital. I remember telling God that I never wanted to come back. I had been completely stripped of my dignity and did not get it back until I was well again.

Fast forward to the present.  The differences between then and now are like those of the night and day, but something happened last night that brought me back to that desperate place.

It was late in the evening, and I was hungry. I recalled how the nurses told me that since I was independent, I was able to check myself off of the floor and go get food, coffee or go shopping within the facility if I desired to. I was closer to going home, so i thought an independent outing would be a wonderful opportunity for me to prepare for “life on the outside.”

I checked myself out, and kindly declined a nurse to escort me. I would be fine. I rolled down the halls and could feel the chill of the night on my skin and in my heart. I was happy to be able to have a nice meal...but I was missing home.

I waited for 10 minutes in line and mentally chose what I would be ordering. Finally it was my turn to order. The woman behind the counter looked down at me and smiled. As her smile faded, she said these words, “Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t serve patients here.”

It was a simple phrase, but I was instantly crushed. In all my striving for independence, and the accolades of achievement, I couldn’t even order a sandwich for dinner. I figured it was because of dietary restrictions of patients there, but I couldn’t stop the tears.

I wheeled down the hall, hiding my face and tried the find the nearest bathroom. I spotted one, but the door was too heavy. Handicap accessible my butt! I rammed my wheelchair into the opening of the door until I could pass through. Immediately, there was another obstacle. I finally cleared it and retreated into the largest stall I could find.

I closed the door and just balled. I could feel my shoulders heaving from the deep sorrow that I felt in my heart. I yelled at the ceiling and told God how unfair this was. I told Him how frustrated I was. It was then that I decided that I wanted to go home. This was how I felt in that lonely ward so many years ago. Helpless and defeated. Broken and alone. I slammed my fist at the wall in anger and then I stopped... I suddenly realized that this time, something was different.

I didn’t want to put myself into an internal prison. I had worked so hard, why stop now? I said aloud “I refuse to partner with the lie of rejection. I am not rejected. This is just the policy of the hospital.” I immediately began to feel better. Why? Because I changed my mind. I changed the course of where the night could go. I had the opportunity to choose if I was going to cry myself to sleep that night or if I was to overcome.  It was time to overcome.

I left the stall behind and wheeled myself to the door. A stranger on the other side opened it up and smiled at me, saving me from the drudgery of the task. I nodded and went back to my floor feeling a little lighter.

After checking in with my nurse, I came back to my room. Others soon found out what had happened and offered to go and buy a sandwich for me. I thanked them for their regard, but was more than ready to turn in for the night. Their kindness reminded me that I was once again among friends.

What a tough lesson to learn when you face difficult situations! It’s amazing how painful or unexpected experiences can trigger feelings of the past. It was up to me to determine what I was going to do with them. That simple experience is a part of me overcoming my past and the challenges of the present. It was a part of me becoming stronger.

Today I choose to delight in the dignity that has been so graciously given to me. I will remember who I am and not shrink back to a place of weakness and defeat. If you ever find yourself where I was last night, I encourage you to do the same. Embrace bravery and bless everyone you meet with the gift of dignity.

Love,

-Mel

Best Friends Forever:-)

Have you ever been in a place in life where you suddenly felt uprooted after a long period of stability? That's kinda where I've been. There has been so much beauty in being unsettled for me, because it has provided the opportunity for God to highlight some areas in my heart and life that I need to work on. One of these areas is my marriage.

When you find yourself going through the motions in marriage, there can come a time when you don't feel fully alive. Things can be good, but I believe they were meant to be Great!

I'd noticed these comments that my husband and I had been making- wishing for friends, seeking awesome experiences with close friends, but finding few opportunities.  It didn't help that a very close friend of mine recently went back home after an impromptu visit about a week and a half ago. I had forgotten what it was like to have someone chasing you through the house, doing hair or sitting together saying nothing. I had forgotten what real friendship was like.

I was washing dishes the other day in the kitchen and wanted to just chat on the phone with someone. I have hundreds of contacts in my phone, but no one jumped out to me as someone I would just love to chat with for hours about nothing...except my husband.  Hmm. There is something to be said about that. We gravitate to those who know us more than anyone else- those we feel at home with.

So, it was then that I decided to propose something to him. I felt a little silly, but I knew it was something that we both needed. When he came home from work, I asked him if he would officially be my best friend. He said yes:-)

There was a lot of giddy school girl giggling from both sides as we laid out our terms. We would workout together, he would need to learn to do my hair, make-up and nails (preparation for when I'm old and can't put my lipstick on straight.) There would be card games, movie nights, bike rides, escapes out on the town. Most of this stuff we do together anyway, but now it seems like a switch has flipped and we are so much more intentional.

We consider each other more because we are "best friends"- as it should be. I even searched Etsy for matching necklaces- found one with barbells and a metal medallion that said "Swole Mates." Nice and masculine for the hubby. We're definitely having fun with this.

So tonight, we may just snuggle up on the bed with popcorn and watch the Hart of Dixie or do a quick workout in the garage gym after we put the kids to bed tomorrow. Yeah,  I'm starting to get flashbacks of us in high school...but now, it's oh so better:-) I can't wait to see where our friendship takes us! Matching back tattoos? Maybe. lol


-Melody

The Value of Heaven

I've been feeling the weight of loss lately. So many painful tragedies occur. So many lives are cut short. It seems to hurt worse when life is snatched away from the young. 

How can a heart cope? How do you reconcile the loss that you feel in your heart to the continuation of everyday activities when life must go on? Such a question. 

I recall when I was in the thick of facing my own losses. The only thing that would give me some sort of comfort was the reality that heaven had become a lot more valuable. I know it seems simple, but think about it. Many spout sonnets concerning the afterlife, cherubs and streets of gold. I happen to truly believe there is such a place as this paradise- although I don't know what it will look like. Because God reigns there, I know it has got to be good, as He indeed is. Because of His presence there and the presence of my loved ones, this "heaven" is valuable to me. I truly believe I will see them when I pass away. Although the pain of the waiting is tangible, joy comes in the morning. 

In the realization of the value of heaven, I rest in the knowledge that safety and security do not need to be sought down here. Because of His great love, there is no fear in death. I can rest in knowing that even if I pass away, things will turn out ok. I will be fine. My family will survive because they find a home in a loving Savior who can meet all of their needs. 

This tangibly looks like the overwhelming strength that one feels when plagued with sorrow. This looks like moments of great joy that carry you when you've felt like you have no tears left. This looks like community surrounding you and provision given when financial needs are present. 

In the midst of sorrow, God is Here. He is close to the brokenhearted and crushed in spirit. Because of the value of heaven and the precious gift of my life, I choose to hide myself in the wings of my Savior- the one who carries me and shows me daily, the true value of heaven.

Love,

-Melody

The Beauty of Springtime

How many days have gone by since the day you were born? How many mornings have you spent in joy, or in shame? In reluctance or in bliss. In awe or in wonder?

For me, the last 29 years have been a whirlwind. The last 8, a tidal wave of joys and sorrows... but something has happened. The dust has settled, and I'm realizing how long it's been since I've enacted the mores of Melody.

Saturday marked promises fulfilled and new beginnings for me. I realized that it had been almost 8 years since I'd led a worship service. When I actually took the time to count the years, I was dumbfounded. Where have I been? Locked away in my fears? Riding the waves of life? I think it has been all of the above. The blessing in it all is that God is a redeemer of the time, and no precious moment was lost. It's just time to step back into that part of my passion again, and it can only get better.

How about you? What promises or dreams have you left behind? I encourage you to revisit something you may have been staring at longingly as it sits on the shelf collecting dust. Don't be afraid to try. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. You fail? So what. Try again. The next time will be  better. Just don't give up.

There can sometimes be a certain pain to trying again or doing a new thing. Consider these to be growing pains. The stretching and bending of the belief that you are more than what you thought you were. The cracking of broken views and the birth of new ones. The shifting of incomplete ideas as they become melded into a more complete picture of what God intended. In this light, change is a good thing.

My pastor Rachelle was speaking of change at a women's event on Saturday. I can not recall the exact wording, but it went something like this: if you are not changing, you are complacent or stagnant. Could you imagine where you would be in 5 years if you did not conquer fear and move forward in your life? Exactly. You would be in the exact same place that you are today. How disheartening for most to realize such a reality! Maybe some of you already have. If so, then it's time for change.

Ebbs and flows are good. We are made in the image of a loving God who moves with us. He loves the seasons of life. It is evident in how the trees cast their leaves in the fall, or how the sun shines brighter in the spring time. Sometimes we stay in one season of our lives for far too long. We live for years in the winter because of our fears. We may be longing for the springtime but we just sit back and watch while the world passes us by.

My pastor Zack made a beautiful point yesterday in his Sunday message. He said " Sometimes we forget we're alive." Seriously! We do! We can get used to the monotony and frigid cold of winter, We feel the life fleeting from our bones. What we often fail to realize is that winter is not merely death. Winter is the beauty that sets the stage for new life to begin! Old things fall away so that everything can become new! Winter occurs so expansion, abundance and blessing can occur.

Just like the rosebush buds and blooms, it needs the tender care of a gardener to make it come fully alive and release its fragrance to the world. If we are not being pruned, watered, blessed and loved...if we are not living in healthy community and cultivating all of the good things that make us some alive, we will not bud and bloom. Find your place. Come alive. Springtime is here!

Love,

-Mel

A Change of Perspective

Such a beautiful dance of life we live,

An intricate tapestry we roam. 

In the midst of days plummeting on,

and shadows cast of home. 

Dream with me friend, 

in this moment find ,

the one thing you can give.

A cherished belief 

in life and love,

and inaccurate perspective. 

God has been opening my eyes lately to how limited my perspective has been. I was driving around last week, after dropping my mother off at the airport and stumbled across a park. I've driven by this park a few times and had never taken the time to enjoy its beauty. Today, I would.

 

It was frigid for Las Vegas this particular day, but I decided to seek a place to write beneath the trees. I pulled my sweater close to my face as the cool wind swirled around me. My eyes began to water and I felt like I would find no resting place for myself or for my pen. I walked toward one spot as a young man decided to find his place a few feet away- too close. I turned in the opposite direction to find that the only places left were in the parking lot. Feeling a little saddened by the lack of shelter, I decided to walk in another direction. I almost retreated to the car when I saw something. Geese. Huge, fuzzy, fat, honking, orange beaked geese! I hadn't recalled seeing white geese before, so I went to take a closer look. Further into the park were all kinds of birds. Songbirds, pigeons, seagulls, mallards, larks and horned geese all waddling before me. A frigid landscape suddenly turned into a bustling habitat for birds! 

I looked even further to see something shooting into the sky. I assumed it to be a broken sprinkler. Wrong again. It was the fountain to a lake! A man-made lake equipped with a ramp for boating and a drop off for fishing. This outing was just getting better and better.

As I sat by the water, I felt compelled to get out a pen and paper and begin to compose a line drawing of what I could see. I scribbled a flurry of shrubs and conifers...gazebos, mountains and clouds. I smiled at my drawing and felt compelled to look again. My, had I been wrong! The mountains were in the wrong place. The sidewalk didn't extend as far. I'm pretty sure I had missed a gazebo altogether. Although the rendering was beautiful to me, it was all wrong. This was when God began to speak.

He reminded me that although the drawing was lovely, and that there was much truth in my depiction of the scene, my perspective was limited. My limited perspective prevented me from seeing all of the beauty that could be seen in my surroundings. How many more things in my life was I not "seeing" completely? How many more experiences were I not engaging in fully because I came with expectations that prevented me from seeing the beauty of all that there was? 

In the middle of my "aha" moment, I glanced behind me as more perspective shifts unfolded. A nicely dressed man approached a seemingly transient woman who was fishing on the jetty. I had greeted her earlier, not knowing her story. The man proceeded to join her, crouching next to her poles and inspecting the spoils.  They engaged in intimate conversation. It seemed that they knew each other well. 

After this, I heard a voice. A small group with clipboards approached the couple and asked them how their day was. I thought the group worked for the city or the park system. As they came closer, I saw them ask two women walking their dogs if they were interested in taking a faith-based survey. The women declined- one didn't believe in organized religion. The other said she was "spiritual" but not interested. I think this was the first time I had actually heard someone say those words outside of the television. 

I took a breath as the group came near to where I was resting. I looked a little closer to see two men, a young girl and a teenage boy. As they began to speak, my heart told me the truth- we were family in Christ. I answered their questions and they began to smile. They shared with me how difficult it was to find someone who believed in Jesus- they were war torn. They intended to continue to keep at it until "their bodies gave out." My heart ached for them, but I understood. 

I asked if I could pray with them and they obliged. I prayed for physical strength, divine appointments and great joy. I prayed for the young girl who was also an artist- that God would expand her gift. I prayed for the teenage boy- that God would increase his gifts as he showed diligence in pursuing the heart of God. It was a treasured moment, and I would have missed it all if I hadn't turned around to face another direction. 

Sometimes we live our lives without ever turning around. How much do we miss? How much do we leave untouched or unblessed by our influence? 

Changing perspective for me means leaving my past behind. It means being brave enough to move ahead, even when I can't see what is in front of me. The truth is that I am led by the hand of the One who loves me- a Savior who will never lead me astray.

Today I choose to let Him expand my perspective. To wash away the muck from my eyes painted on by past hurts and failures. To choose new lenses. To see as if for the first time. You can too. Try it. The view is so much better this way:-)

Love you dearly,

-Melody